Fat Ash
by DarkV
Summary: And lo, the aspiring pokemon master did become big and puffy, and he would pay the substantially less than ultimate price for it.


**Fat Ash**

The morning began with a clatter, as a tall, spiky-haired boy was preparing breakfast. This breakfast consisted entirely of rice, as had many other breakfasts before it. The boy's name, of course, was Brock, and he was the self-appointed cook for the trio of pokemon trainers: Ash, Misty, and himself. Though a one-crop diet was hardly conducive to their health, supplies were generally limited in the middle of a forest, and besides, the three agreed that Brock's cooking was indeed tasty. Thus, breakfast consisted entirely of rice; white rice; white, starchy rice; white, starchy balls of rice. The clattering came from the plates that were being shifted around in preparation for the arrival of the rice balls.   
  
Misty was the first to stir from the sudden noise. She shifted randomly in the sleeping bag, her entire body sore from a night on the cold ground. Yet she could already tell that the day would be a sickeningly hot, humid one. Many hours of walking with sore limbs would do little to help that. The egg-shaped Togepi rolled out of the sleeping bag as she yawned, stretched, and otherwise writhed in drowsiness. Curled up in its shell the pokemon looked very much like a real hard boiled egg, but there would be no such nutritional diversity in the coming breakfast. As the creature awoke, its spiky and rather rubbery-looking head unfolded.   
  
"Briiiii!" Its sudden and shrill chirping lifted the remainder of Misty's drowsiness. She wiggled out of the sleeping bag and climbed rather dizzily to her feet, to which much of her blood had flowed. Yet it balanced out when she bent down to pick up her pokechild. She clutched it to her chest jealously as she stumbled over to the makeshift breakfast table in the dirt.   
  
"'Morning Misty!" Brock said energetically. He had clearly been awake for quite some time.   
  
"'Morning Brock," Misty mumbled. She had clearly been awake for quite a short time.   
  
"You should probably go wake Ash up; breakfast'll be ready soon."   
  
"Alright."   
  
So she did. The boy lay in his own sleeping bag not far from Misty's own. None of him was visible save for his head, which had a hairstyle suggestive of a bad hair day yet was constantly in such a state. Next to this head was another, smaller, fuzzier, and substantially more yellow head; that of his pikachu. Both were apparently resting peacefully, and could lie there for a few more hours at least. They would do just that if Brock and Misty weren't around to wake them every morning.   
  
"Ash," the young girl said quietly, leaning over the boy. "It's morning. Time to wake up." There was no response. She spoke a little louder, "Ash?" There was no response. Misty sighed, and her stomach grumbled. Yes, the sooner he awoke, the sooner she could eat. "Ash!!" She yelled down at him. There was no response. Then he jerked awake and mumbled incoherently and loudly. As he opened his eyes he saw a shining, angelic face above him, highlighted by the morning light beaming down from the treetops above.   
  
He rubbed his eyes and saw the rather cross-looking redhead glaring down at him. "Oh, good morning Misty." The small yellow creature next to him also came to life, and quickly scurried out of the way while Ash struggled out of the sleeping bag. He failed several times at sitting up before settling for crawling out of the bag and climbing to his feet. With a stretch and a yawn he said, "I must've slept wrong last night. I feel kinda stiff and clumsy."   
  
"So what else is new?" Misty said slyly, glancing at him sideways. "Now come on, Mister Pokemon Master, I'm hungry."   
  
The breakfast setting was a mindless fury of biting and chewing. Brock managed to pace himself, but the other two showed no shame or restraint. Misty ate only as much as she dared without distorting her girlish figure. Ash continued on after the other two had finished. They stared at him over the remains of last night's campfire in awe. He seemed to have Misty's fervor and Brock's endurance, at least in terms of eating. As he reached for another few rice balls he noticed the staring.   
  
"What, is something on my face?" He felt around in search of some rogue bit of rice, but found nothing.   
  
Misty and Brock glanced at each other. "No, nothing!" they said in unison.   
  
Ash quickly finished the last of the rice balls, and the three began to pack up the campsite for another long day of hiking. Brock and Misty muttered amongst themselves while Ash was busy.   
  
"Does Ash seem a little different to you, Misty?"   
  
"Well, he's definitely a little...bigger."   
  
Indeed, it was so. The aspiring pokemon master had become big and puffy; not grotesquely so, but shirt-stretchingly so. It was doubtless a result of many months of modest hiking, less than ideal foods, and not quite grueling sessions of issuing commands to his pokemon. What exercise the trials of Team Rocket provided had been supplanted by the new, one-hit wonder, giant robot style Team Rocket, against which any actual human exertion was useless and unnecessary.   
  
"Alright guys, let's go!" Ash's voice broke their train of thought, and they quickly packed up their belongings and set out on the forest trail. Ash's footsteps fell noticeably heavier than they had been in previous months. As Misty walked beside him, she surreptitious glanced at his new bulk. It seemed to jiggle up and down in a set rhythm. The effect was hypnotizing, and she nearly kept walking when Ash suddenly called for a break. "Hold on. I need to rest for a minute," and so the three sat on a nearby log.   
  
Ash exhaled and hunched over, dripping with sweat. It was then that he finally noticed the strain on his clothing. "Wah!" he cried. "When did my clothes shrink?!"   
  
"Actually," Misty began, "you've gotten bigger." Brock looked like he was about to interrupt, but hesitated.   
  
"Well, Mom always did tell me I was growing up too fast."   
  
"No, I mean...you know, fatter."   
  
"What? No, I've just grown."   
  
"No, people grow _up_, not _sideways_."   
  
"Well _I_ do grow sideways."   
  
"That's because you're getting _fat_."   
  
"Hmph." The young trainer turned around to face the other side of the log, hunched over, and proceeded to produce bad vibes, radiate a negative aura, or otherwise sulk. "Pikachu, I'm not fat, am I buddy?" The pokemon until this time had been resting peacefully on its trainer's shoulder, but now perked up at the mention of its name. It tilted its head to the side for a moment, as if in thought, then hopped down into Ash's lap.   
  
It stood on its hind legs and examined Ash's substantial gut before poking it with a tentative paw. "Chuuuu," it muttered. More pressure was applied until the paw slipped entirely into a rift between two sizeable rolls of stomach. "_Pika!_" Pikachu cried out in shock, and struggled to pull its paw out again. When release finally came, the small, fuzzy creature was catapulted into some nearby shrubbery. The youth sighed heavily.   
  
Brock spoke up. "Hey, don't worry about it, Ash. Pokemon trainers come in all shapes and sizes."   
  
"Yeah, I guess so..." Ash was obviously not quite convinced, but had nothing more to say on the matter. Plus his pikachu had disappeared into the bushes in the middle of a forsaken forest, and so he stomped after it. "Pikachuuuu!" he cried as he waddled from bush to bush. His two human companions soon joined him. Yet they made the terrible mistake of splitting up, thus leaving themselves individually vulnerable. Nothing happened. Then they made the terrible mistake of converging on a single spot, thus leaving themselves collectively vulnerable. A net promptly lifted them off the ground and into the air, leaving them dangling from the cold, uncaring, chlorophyll-laden treetops above.   
  
A pair of disembodied voices rang out with devious laughter.   
  
"Prepare for trouble!"   
  
"Make it double!"   
  
"Oh no," the netted three groaned.   
  
"To protect the world from devastation!"   
  
"_Gyah!_" both voices suddenly cried out in pain.   
  
"Quit blabbin', and swipe da pokemon!" said a third voice in a curious, Brooklynesque accent.   
  
Indeed, there stood the infamous, but increasingly inadequate, Team Rocket. The two human Rockets were clutching at their faces, which had been comically covered with bloody gashes, soon to be infected. Yet after a moment they regained their composure and continued to be evil.   
  
"Now, hand over the pikachu!" Jessie ordered, pointing defiantly at the bag of trainers above her.   
  
"Never!" Ash shouted in bravado, for the moment forgetting that he didn't have Pikachu.   
  
"You don't have a choice; you're caught in our trap!"   
  
"We'll just use our pokemon to--"   
  
Ash was interrupted by a series of snaps, as the net tore apart under the combined weight of the three trainers.   
  
"Gyah!" Team Rocket cried out in panic.   
  
"I guess dey don't make nets like dey useta," Meowth said morosely.   
  
Misty and Brock fell roughly and rather unartistically to the ground below, while Ash still clung to some bits of net in the air. Yet the blatantly weak fibers could not bear his colossal weight, and they soon snapped in his grip. Some distance below, Misty was reorienting herself, and she glanced upward to see a large, jean-clad rump plummeting towards her. She shrieked, and rolled out of the way mere moments before Ash landed, much of the force of the fall being absorbed by his newly endowed fanny.   
  
Team Rocket took advantage of this, and whipped out their pokeballs at the speed of light.   
  
"Arbok, go!"   
  
"Weezing, go!"   
  
"Pikapi!" a perpetually cheery voice squeaked from somewhere in the foliage.   
  
Lo, the small fuzzy mouse launched itself into the air with uber-pokemon strength, and performed a double somersault before unleashing an obscenely powerful blast of electricity in midair. The bolt of lightning immediately charred its two opponents to unconscious cinders with curious spirals in their eyes, while its creator landed spryly on the ground before them.   
  
"Pikachu!" Ash cried in elation, as if the two had been separated for years. The youth bent over with outstretched arms to receive his fuzzy companion with love. The creature leapt towards its trainer, and suddenly there was a sudden, ghastly tearing noise.   
  
"Wah!" Though it was not immediately beknownst to anyone else, Ash felt a mysterious draft. He stood bolt upright, with his hands plastered to his rear. Thus, instead of leaping into a warm embrace, Pikachu slammed entirely into Ash's gut at alarming speed. The pokemon master in training doubled over again, this time in pain, and produced another terrible ripping noise. He crumpled to his knees and began crawling away.   
  
Team Rocket looked on. Jessie and James were clutching each other in preparation for another inevitable, undignified defeat, but their attention had been diverted to a new spectacle. Brock and Misty, too, gawked at the sight. They beheld the bare Ash, for his jeans and underwear had no longer been able to bear the strain his body put on them.   
  
Jessie and James glanced at each other, then down at Meowth, who looked up at them. Brock and Misty glanced at each other, then down at Pikachu, who looked up at them. Team Rocket glanced at Team Twerp, who looked back at them. They all glanced at Ash, who had closed his eyes against the pain, and wasn't really looking at anything. This was to his benefit, for while he was doubled over trying to regain his breath, his posterior shamelessly waggled around in the air.   
  
"Wow," Meowth piped up. "Dat's one fat Ash." Brock considered this, and stroked his chin thoughtfully. He nodded in agreement.   
  
"So," James said. "Can we have Pikachu now?" Brock glanced at Misty, who glanced back at him. They glanced down at Pikachu, who looked up at them.   
  
"Pikachu," they shouted in unison, "thunderbolt!"   
  
Jessie and James continued their clutching. "Looks like we're blasting off ag--" They were cut off as Pikachu screamed its own name with startling ferocity. A wall of electricity slammed into them are flung them, along with the mangled bodies of their pokemon, carelessly into the horizon.   
  
Ash had finally managed to recover from Pikachu's impromptu tackle. He climbed shakily to his feet and held his tattered trousers sheepishly around his waist.   
  
"Well, we've saved the day. But I think I'm going to need some new underwear." 


End file.
